


Adore You

by sadbeastie



Category: Adore You - Harry Styles (Song), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eroda AU, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Follows along with Harry's 'Adore You' Music Video, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inspired by Tenki no Ko | Weathering With You, Inspired by The Shape of Water (2017), Little Mermaid Elements, References to Drugs, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide Attempt, Well ... it dives deeper into the overall lore i guess lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadbeastie/pseuds/sadbeastie
Summary: A boy with a peculiar kind of magic -- expressed though a blindingly bright smile -- is an outcast on the isle of Eroda, his light so terrified people that he grew despondent and withdrew from society. Alone, depressed and losing all hope, his entire world shifts when he finds camaraderie in a band of peculiar souls: a paper boy, a tourist, and a little fish with an amazing secret.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	1. The Isle of Eroda

_In all the seas, in all the world, there has never been a land quite like the isle of Eroda. Shaped unmistakably like a frown, it is home to an all but forgotten fishing village that has had perpetual cloud cover for as long as anyone can remember. An isle where some still believe that it’s bad luck to mention a pig in a fisherman’s pub. Where seeing a minster in the morning, meant you should go home immediately. Some fishermen still wore a single gold earring for luck, some say it’s to pay to have your body buried if you die in a strange port. It was also frowned upon to be caught whistling in the wind, in fear you might turn a gust into a gale. And if ever you leave Eroda, avoid doing so on odd numbered days …_

_Everyone was always frowning anyway. Which they referred to as 'Resting Fish Face'._

_But then…well, something peculiar happened…_

_or I mean, **someone** peculiar happened._

**_  
The Boy was ... peculiar ... from the moment he entered the world._ **

  
“You had on the biggest, brightest grin anyone had ever seen,” Gran told him when he was just a child. She smiled fondly at the memory of that pink little boy and how he lit up the entire room. Literally. “You blinded the doctors and the nurses. Not a single soul could explain it. You came into this cruel world smiling, like everything was beautiful.”

The Boy watched her wrinkled fingers work the knitting needles, finishing the last of his sweater colored a bold blue with a gaudy yellow pattern. The second it was in his hands he couldn’t help but smile, the light causing her to narrow her foggy grey eyes. He quickly pursed his lips shut, the light going out instantly. She reached out to him and felt for his chin, smiling at him even though her eyes pointed elsewhere.

“Never stop smiling, my dear,” She advised. “Because of your smile, you make life more beautiful. There is fear when frowning. Never you mind those Fish Faces.”

The “Fish Faces”, she was referring to, were the boys he tried so desperately to befriend at school. The very memory of how they winced at him as he grinned made his eyes fall to his feet.

“But what if hurt someone?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Nonsense,” she insisted, “Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.” She smiled fondly at her grandson, giving his chin a loving pinch before wiggling it. “Mother Teresa, another wise woman like myself.”

The Boy chuckled lightly and gently pried his head away. He kept his teeth hidden, but he smiled nonetheless. And even though she could barely see it in her old age, it never failed to make her smile in return.

He kept his Gran’s words locked away in his heart as he went to school that day. Even as the boys ignored him during Gym, and ganged up on him during recess.

“You’re a freak! Why would we ever hang out with you?!” Brody Sheehan bit. As he got shoved into the chain-link fence, The Boy couldn’t help but find it ironic; Brody himself was a good foot shorter than everyone else, he smelled bad, and had messy red hair that he got picked on for a lot. He’d been labeled one of the least popular kids in school. He was as much an outcast as The Boy was; him and his little gang of nose-pickers and fire-starters and property-breakers.

“I-I just thought we could—” He let out a cry as a boot kicked him square in the gut.

“You _THOUGHT?!_ ” Brody grunted as he threw his foot forward, “Well don’t think, freak! Bein’ a thick fecker works well for you!”

After a swift kick to the head, Brody and the others left wads of spit on his new sweater and laughed. Long after they ran off to go play with one another, The Boy laid there cowering against the fence. He could feel his eye starting to swell and the blood dribbling from his nose down to his lips. He gripped onto the ends of his sweater and blinked back the stinging tears, repeating his Gran’s over and over in his head.

He went home crying that day. On the walk home, not a single adult stopped to ask him what was wrong. No one took him aside to dry his eyes or clean the blood and snot off his face. They simply watched and whispered to one another, some flashing him empathetic looks, others shaking their heads.

_  
No one ever meant to be mean towards him, but in a town grown used to way things were, no one knew what to do with something ... different. They did their very best to ignore it, hoping it would go away ..._

_and eventually so did The Boy…_

_Halfway into his 20’s, he had lost his smile. And without it the world grew darker, the wind colder, and the ocean more violent._ _He wondered what could bring despair to something so beautiful…_

  
A week before his half-birthday he decided to end his life. He spent the morning organizing his jars, ironing his clothes, and cleaning the cobwebs around his house. He wore his father’s old sailor uniform, buttoned securely over his mother’s blouse. He wore his grandfather’s deep-sea diving helmet when he walked out of the house, hiding his face from view as he made his way to a secluded nook on the beach.

He set it gingerly on the sand just a handful of feet from the water. With it, a navy-blue envelope labeled ‘E’ on the front.

As he began filling his pockets with stones, he gazed out at the ocean. He took a few deep breaths and shut his eyes, relishing in the cold briny air one last time. One last time, he pictured his mother’s smile. How her hair used to practically glow in the sun when they went out sailing. He pictured the look on his dad’s face when he swam with the whales for the first time; how he laughed that ridiculous laugh of his and clapped like proud parent at a school pageant. He opened his eyes again and took a step forward, swiping his damp hair out of his face as the cold water hit him and sent a shiver up his spine. As his feet disappeared under the murky water, he continued the agonizingly long pace towards the sea, his official end. He watched his footing from time to time, careful not to get the heel of his boots wedged between the rocks below.

This was it, he thought as the tide rolled in up to his legs, it was almost time.

He took a deep breath through his nose and took another step, watching the water rise to his thighs, his hips …

He stopped halfway when something glinted from the corner of his eye.

Stark against the dreary grey of the sea and the dark kelp-covered rocks, a fish, dappled in flecks of blue, gold and green flailed for its life on the rocks beside him. The Boy had half a mind to keep walking, to focus back on the task at hand, but something in him compelled him to step over and take care of it. He had time before ending it, he thought, what's one last act of kindness?

He reached over and picked up the fish, tossing it underhand back into the rolling waves. He stepped back to his original spot and re-centered himself, staring out at the vast ocean that was moments from taking him. This was it, he thought to himself. The end of it all.

Just as he was about to step out, he heard a soft plop followed by a pained, high-pitched squeak. When he looked to his left once more, the same little fish flopped across the same rock it had just been rescued from.

_  
The Boy tried to ignore the fish, but he was not alone in his melancholy._

_Loneliness is an ocean full of travelers trying to find their place in the world. But without friendship, we are all lost and left with no hope, no home, no harbor…_

  
The little fish squeaked softly, rapidly opening and shutting their mouth as they struggled for air. The Boy frowned at the display of odd behavior; the poor thing gazing around in a panic with one large golden eye. He watched as its gaze landed directly on him and stayed there, their little body staying completely still. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the fish was staring at him, observing him ...

But that was ridiculous. 

One thing he knew for sure, though: the fish didn’t want to go back out to sea. And they didn’t want to die.

He turned to look back towards the cliffs. Back towards the direction of home.

Only one option remained.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a brown paper sandwich bag. With large steps he made his way over to the rock, carefully collecting the fish along with some sea water. He waded ashore with the bag securely in his hands, cradling it like a precious object.

_  
He wondered what cruel twist of fate brought them together,_

_and if fate was indeed involved, what did she have in store?_


	2. The Tourist from London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months before going through with his plan to end his life, The Boy encounters a rather odd little soul.

**[3 MONTHS EARLIER]**

The Boy was someone who, to the townspeople, only grew stranger as he grew up. He likes to eat tacos for lunch and crust-less cucumber sandwiches for dinner. He enjoys knitting and music and collecting an absurd amount of mason jars for reasons unknown to everyone.

No one knew he needed them combat the cruelty of the world.

It was a coping trick he learned from his Gran. On particularly bad days he would scream into an empty mason jar and screw the lid shut. He had collected numerous jars over the years, and as he grew up, his Gran would pack them all in her Mini and drive miles out just to dispose of them.

But Gran had been dead for a year now, and the jars were starting to take up space. The Boy rarely left town. He made sure to go outside every day, but even that could be seen as barely living from someone on the outside. He only ever traveled to two or three spots. The Market for food, the Theatre on Wednesdays for classic American movies, and the cliffside to watch Osian, the local delivery boy through his binoculars. He was known for his long blonde dreads and lip piercings, two things that made him stick out among the relatively plain-looking crowd. He liked combing the beach for treasure, collecting items that had washed up from the ocean. The Boy watches him from the cliffs every day like clockwork, scribbling the guy’s findings in his journal. He kept record of all the townspeople in his little leather-bound journal: Who they were, how they acted, what they liked and didn’t like… There was a strange comfort in it, he thought. It felt like he knew them all, like they were his friends …

Or perhaps Pen Pals who never wrote back.

After scribbling down Osian’s latest find with an old metal detector, The Boy packed up his lunch and started making his way back home. He stopped at the fish market for a sack of fresh oysters from Padraig, the man rumored to be as old as the island itself. In truth he came five generations of fishermen, and it showed. Anyone could tell given how weathered his hands were, and how easy he made hauling in fresh fish on his own look. He spent a great deal out at sea. It was as much a part of him as he it. The Boy felt envious, in a way. Were it him, he would’ve taken the boat and sailed elsewhere. Anywhere. Far from Eroda.

“Alright, B?” Padraig stopped to tilt his cap at The Boy before resuming his work. Like clockwork, he slapped a fish down on the wooden block resting between his knees. He chopped off its head before wrapping it in newspaper, setting it aside before grabbing another one. The Boy watched for a few seconds, suddenly remembering how his dad used to be the one sitting there, chopping off fish heads with a wooden pipe dangling out of his mouth. Padraig would be hauling scores off fish off the boat, dumping the pile right next to him with a triumphant smile. He remembered it as clear as day; how it stretched from ear to ear as his dad groaned and griped about having to do more work.

That was the last time he saw the old man smile.

“Oi!”

The Boy jumped as two fingers snapped in front of his face. He blinked a few times, perking up when Padraig held up an old, dirty potato sack full of oysters.

“Gathered a bigger batch this mornin', freshly caught.” He handed the sack over with a gentle nod of solidarity. “Reckon she’ll like these, yeh?”

The Boy had to do everything in his power not to smile. He pinched his lips together and nodded, mumbling a small ‘Thank you’ as he took the sack and shuffled away. A young couple walking by gasped and quickly leaped to the side as he brushed past them. It was a fairly common reaction whenever The Boy was around. He was used to it.

Still, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Oh for fucks sake!” Padraig barked at them. He threw a hand in The Boy’s direction, eyeing the couple the whole time. “The lad’s not got the fuckin plague! Show a little class, will yeh?!”

No one knew what the oysters were for. Many figured he was just a big fan of oyster stew, or mignonette oysters like his Grandfather. No one ever bothered to ask him. Nor did he bother to tell them. In truth, he’d been collecting the shells to build a nice shrine to house his Gran’s ashes.

It was the least he could do, seeing as the whole town held a memorial service for her without telling him.

  
“Home,” He called out to no one in particular. He went about his usual routine as he settled back into the comfort of his home. Washing his clothes, working on Gran’s shrine, feasting on a cucumber sandwich for dinner, and watching the Charlie Chaplain special on TV before falling asleep to nap.

He snapped open his eyes again when he heard a soft wrap at the door.

He thought it a mistake at first, but then there was another knock and he frowned in confusion.

When he opened his front door, the first thing he spotted was an orange beret atop waves of dirty blond hair. Followed by the emerald green pea-coat she wore over opaque blue tights. She looked like she jumped right out of the 1960’s and somehow landed on Eroda by mistake.

The girl took a step back and smiled, her freckled nose wrinkling as she did so. “Hi.”

The Boy said nothing in return. He just looked his immediate left, then right. No one else on the street.

“Uh…” A long pause. Too long. She waited for him to say something back, but he just continued to stare. She sucked on her teeth and pointed a thumb in back of her. “I-I was on my way back to me Aunt’s place, but I got all turned around and ... now I’m a bit lost?”

The Boy’s eyes flitted down to her hands as she he reached into her coat pocket. She pulled out a slip of paper and opened it. “Could you tell me where, er, … 88 Seagull Lane is?”

She looked up back up at him and frowned. He had a weird look on his face. She couldn’t tell whether he was confused, or angry with her, or both.

One thing she knew for sure, things were starting to feel _painfully_ awkward.

“D…Do you want…?” Her voice trailed off as she hesitantly held out the paper to him. He stared down at it before staring at her and deep down she wanted to scream and run down the street. She had no idea what this guy’s deal was, nor what was happening right now. “God, w _hy was he so fucking awkward?!’_ she thought to herself.

“Seaview.”

“… Eh?” Her brows lifted at the sound of his voice and accent. She thought it’d be higher, and more Irish like the others in town.

“Seaview Co’age,” He leaned out his doorway and pointed to the right. “Down at the corner you take a right, all the way to the next corner. S’right there.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” She breathed, immediately clamping a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened at The Boy and she held a hand out. “Shit! Sorry! Sorry. The swearing. S’a bad habit.”

She flashed him an awkward grin and tried laughing it off. The corner of his mouth twitched up before falling again.

More silence. The girl had to keep from letting out another swear at the awkward tension swelling between them.

“O-Okay, we’ll I’ll just – be on my way, then,” She smoothed some hair behind her ear and waved goodbye, awkwardly. “Cheers for, er … the help ... I’m gonna go.”

“Right,” The Boy mumbled, quickly slinking back into his house and quietly shutting the door. He watched her through the peep hole as she mouthed every swear at herself in the book before leaving. His lips stretched into a smile and he chuckled, faintly. What an odd exchange.

“I wish I had your collar bones,” Flora sighed one dreary afternoon. Lying forward on her bed with her chin in hand and a magazine beneath her, she watched her cousin spray dried shampoo through her golden yellow waves.

“Please,” she heard the girl scoff, “I wish I had your legs. They’re like Heidi Klum’s.” She eyed herself critically in the mirror as she threw her hair back, scrunching her ends to get that loose, romantic wave she liked. She scanned herself over in the mirror as a whole; Brown corduroy pinafore, copper turtleneck underneath, and matching orange tights.

Flora sighed as she closed up the magazine and sat up straight on the bed. “So, after I introduce you to me mates, I say we all go to the pub for drinks and music.”

The girl let out tired huff and rolled her eyes as she got out her lipstick. “The pub _again._ We can do pubs any time, they’re everywhere! Can’t we go sailing or something? I’ve never been on a boat before.”

Her cousin shook her head no and got out her phone to text someone. “Can’t, it’s an odd day.”

Stopping mid-application, she frowned at her cousin in the mirror. “What yeh mean? What happened?”

“No, like, it’s an _odd_ day,” Flora explained, chuckling softly, “An odd number. Yeh don’t go sailing on odd number days ‘less yeh want somethin’ bad to happen to yeh.”

The girl’s brows slid high on her forehead.

“You serious?” She watched her cousin nod with a serious look on her face. “Bollocks. You’re havin’ a laugh.”

“Am not,” she insisted as she hopped off the bed. She walked over to the mirror and started straightening out her skirt and fiddling with her blunt bangs. “Old Man Padraig’s boat got struck by lightnin’ last time he sailed. And don’t even get meh started about what happened to The Boy’s parents.”

“What boy?” The blonde asked, blending the strawberry-colored tint of her lipstick with a faint tap of her finger.

“Doesn’t ma’er,” Flora sighed, “The point is we’re late and _we’re_ _doing_ the pub.”

She took her cousin gently by the wrist, and together they grabbed their coats before heading out.

  
Wedged between old boutiques and tiny mom-and-pop shops that lined the modestly named “shopping district”, Flora led the two of them to the Sea Rock Brewery; home of Eroda’s classic peculiar brews. A kaleidoscope of classes gathered here as regulars; from young wide-eyed students to old fishermen and builders. It was a seaside pub with an extensive beer menu, and a space just small enough to make drinking that much more intimate. She assured her that this was where the insomniacs and rebels gathered—making it one of Eroda’s ideal hubs for night owls; a winning cocktail of seedy and cozy.

The blonde snapped a picture of the building as they walked up. A small group of people (dressed in clothes befitting a sleepy seaside town) were waiting outside the entrance, all of them smoking and chatting excitedly to one another. One of them, a rather dishy looking boy with fluffy brown hair and thick eyebrows looked their way and waved.

“Waaay! If it isn’t Flora McGuiness!” He chirped out. He smoked the last of his cigarette before flicking it away, cooly exhaling into the air as Flora walked up to give him a hug. The rest of her friends, a girl and two other guys, walked up to join them and get a good look at the blonde.

“Enid, this is Seán,” her cousin Flora gave the fluffy-haired guy a solid pat on the stomach. She pointed over to the pretty girl with dark skin and curly black hair dyed burnt orange on the ends. “Over there is Poppy. Next to her is Lucas and his brother David.”

The first thing Enid noticed about Lucas and David was not how they shared the same face, but how insanely flawless their skin looked. Not a single acne scar or blemish in sight, just freckles and pretty rusty red waves for hair. She could just hear her Gran’s voice in her head, calling them Irish beauties with hearts in her eyes. They certainly ticked off all the boxes. She wondered if they’d ever consider leaving the island and try modeling somewhere.

“Everyone, this my cousin Enid,” Flora gave her cousin a gentle squeeze and the blonde flashed them all a weak smile. “She’s visitin’ all the way from London.”

Her small circle of friends all let out hums of surprise and approval.

“ _London town_ , eh?” Seán mused, clearly impressed. “We don’t get many mainlander’s here.”

Shoving her hands in the pockets of her coat, Enid looked around briefly before smirking. “Yeah well, from the looks of it yeh don’t get much of anythin’ do yeh?”

All four of them sputtered a small ‘oooh!’ and Lucas couldn’t help but give a little clap at that. Deep down the blonde sighed with relief. She always favored the easygoing types.

“She’s got a cheek, this one! I like her already.” Lucas gave her a friendly nudge with his elbow. “First drink is on me. Welcome to Eroda.”

“Right, can we go inside then?” Poppy tilted her head towards the pub. “I had a shit day today and I plan to drink this place dry.”

As soon as they walked in, Enid’s eyes wandered about the smallish space. It didn’t look too out there from a typical London pub. She dug the cherry wood structure, and the mermaids carved into the bar. The dim lighting was a nice touch and the nautical-themed décor didn’t appear _too_ gimmicky. It showed history and pride in its roots and she liked that.

She did, however, spot something a little odd. As she walked past a sign reading NO PIG TALK, she couldn’t help but notice the single pint of ale, filled to the very top, sitting alone in front of an empty seat at the bar. No one touched it. No one dare seemed to even look at it. It just sat there.

“S’for the celtic water spirit,” Seán explained to her quietly. They took a seat at a table along the wall, the boy pulling a chair up next to hers. “Bit of an island tradition. The owner here pours a glass for her every night to appease her. Guarantees safe sailing for the fishermen during the day.”

Enid’s lips formed a small ‘Oh’. She nodded in understanding, and as her cousin Flora went on to talk about what they did for fun in Eroda, the blonde’s face fell into a small frown. This place had so many _weird_ superstitions.

When they finally received their drinks, Flora’s group of friends spent the first round getting to know Enid and what she liked. She was in town for a few weeks to get London out of her lungs. She lived for mod-70’s fashion and enjoyed collecting things, everything from crystals to shoes and records. She liked living in London well enough, but to her, nothing beat the cities in Sicily. She used to travel there every summer with her family.

“Oh, _god,_ ” Poppy said suddenly, interrupting Enid’s story about a drunken mishap in Florence. Flora and the others looked over and watched as Poppy tilted her chin towards something past Enid’s shoulder. The blonde furrowed and turned around her seat, gazing in the direction of whatever the others were staring at.

Her eyes went over to the one sitting alone at the bar, realization dawning on her face.

The guy who had given her directions last week. The weird one …

Poppy let out a sigh and shook her head. “That’s bloody sad.”

Enid turned back around to face her. “Wha?”

Seán merely scoffed through his nose, his brows lifting as he took a swig of his drink. “Poor sod.”

“Whassa ma’er?” Enid was confused now, and the looks on everyone’s faces didn’t help.

Poppy leaned forward in her seat and subtly pointed a finger towards the bar, lowering her voice. “That’s The Boy.”

Enid’s brow slid into a frown. “What, the funny fit one who dresses weird?”

As soon as Poppy nodded, she turned back around to get a good look at him. ‘ _Huh,’_ she thought to herself. He really did dress weird. His shirt and shorts were made of the same quilted chevron material, and for whatever reason, he decided on wearing brown loafers and pairing them with grey socks. They were a length far too awkward to be considered chic. He sat beside himself drinking ale through a straw and crafting a worm from the crumpled wrapper.

“Somethin’ wrong with him?” She asked as she turned back around.

“Yeah, _loads,_ ” David said with a scoff. “He’s weird.”

Enid waited for him to continue, but when no other explanation came, she shook her head and shrugged. “… that’s all? He’s weird?”

“Don’t get into it,” Flora insisted, “Seán, you collect records, right? Enid’s a big record buff herself. Her collection makes yours look like shite.”

As the others continued to ramble and converse, Enid’s eyes wandered over to The Boy from time to time. Watching with a small frown as he dripped ale from his straw on to his wrapper worms to make them move. No one seemed to acknowledge his strange behavior, let alone his presence. No one sat next to him, or chatted with him at the bar. It looked rather … lonesome. 

“We should invite him over,” she suddenly confessed.

Just then, the mumur of conversation stopped. Everyone looked at her as if she had grown not one, but two extra heads. Flora’s eyes went wide, and she quickly pinched Enid’s thigh from under the table.

“Ah! What?”

“Sh!” She hissed sharply under her breath. She stared back at the rest of her friends. “Sorry. Go on.”

And just like that, her friends went on with their conversation. Without saying another word, Enid got out her phone and started texting her cousin.

> **> The fuck was what for? Why’d everyone get weird just now? **

She hit send and stared intently at her. As Poppy got into a rather bleak story about the weather, Flora picked up her phone and looked at it before texting back.

> _> You don’t bring up The Boy. Ever. _

Enid frowned a little at the answer, her thumbs tapping rapidly on her keyboard.

> **> Why? Did he kill someone? **
> 
> _> Omg NO!! Why do you always get so morbid! He’s just … peculiar._

Peculiar. Peculiar? What an odd choice of words. He’s weird. He’s peculiar. What on earth was with people giving such vague answers? And since when did being weird warrant such … dramatic behavior from everyone?!

Her eyes immediately went over to him as he moved to get out of his seat. He set down a single banknote and some pebbles before leaving. She smiled at him the second they made eye contact, but it was reciprocated with him looking away and hurrying out the door.

It was official, she thought. Everyone in this town was _fucking_ weird.

#### 

  
The odd bird from before. He’d spotted her when she walked in with Seán Haggerty and the others. She stuck out like a sore thumb, wearing bold colors and smiling at everyone and everything. That only seemed to make her more popular, though. Even though she lost her smile, Poppy practically had stars in her eyes. Seán appeared quite smitten as well. He had on that same soft, pitched voice with her when they talked. He used it all the time back in primary school whenever he pursued a new girlfriend for the week.

As he pinched his lips back around his straw, he couldn’t help but wonder if he and her would get on. She seemed nice enough the other day…

“No.” a part of him thought. It was no use, thinking such things. She couldn’t be his friend. She wouldn’t. The second she found out she would shun him like all the others. There’s no way ...

Or so he thought.

Slurping down the last of his drink, he froze when he heard her speak. Over the drunken laughter of sailors and quiet conversations in the pub, he heard her loud and clear.

_“We should invite him over.”_

He thought he misheard it. Did he mishear it? No. She said it. Plain as day. She wanted him over there. Over _there_ , with the others, to chat and drink. To make friends. The thought both elated and terrified him. Should he turn around? Should he get up and leave? Would she call out to him? What would he do if she did?

He heard her friends quickly try and shush her.

 _That_ was more like it.

That’s the kind of reaction he was used to.

With his insides sinking, he paid the barkeep for his drink and got up to leave. Without meaning to he looked up at her table, panicking internally as soon as their eyes met. He shuffled away as fast his legs could carry him, mumbling an apology to the man coming in from the outside as after knocking shoulders with him on accident.

The moment he ended up outside and felt the cool salty breeze, he let out a breath he had no idea he was holding on to. He screwed his eyes shut as he tried to calm himself down. Tried to keep his brain from replaying that awkward moment over and over behind his eyelids. It was nothing. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

“Hey!”

The Boy snapped opened his eyes and whipped around. The girl came practically tumbling out of the bar and running up to him, her white platform heels clopping against the pavement. For whatever reason, he stood there frozen and allowed her to come up to him. To stand face to face with him. He could see the dark blues of her eyes and her warm ivory skin covered in freckles. She flashed him a shy smile and smoothed some of her hair behind her ear. She had on a lovely set of opal earrings.

“Hey, uh, _you_ ,” she stifled a funny chuckle and shook her head. “Sorry—Hi.”

“… Hi?” He didn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but in his confusion, he couldn’t help it.

However, she appeared pleasantly surprised with his response. “Hi,” she repeated.

For a moment there was silence. She hadn’t thought this far, and it showed as she shifted and fidgeted in place.

“I’m — I’m Enid.” She shot her hand out to him, waiting for him to shake it. The boy stared at it and then her, slightly wary of … _whatever_ was happening at the moment.

She slowly retracted her hand and held it to her side.

“Right. Solid.” She briefly whispered to herself before speaking up. “Er, well, I’m … new here and, well … you seem cool.”

The Boy briefly looked to his left before making eye contact again, flashing her a face as if to say “Okay … And?”

“I-I, er, thought maybe you’d like a drink with us?” She pointed a thumb back towards the bar. “M’cousin’s friend lost a bet so the next round’s free.”

The words slipped out of him faster than he could catch them. “No thank you.”

“… Oh.” The look on her face made him immediately regret it. She looked taken back, and slightly disappointed.

Oddly enough, that didn’t stop her from flashing a smile.

“Okay, well, maybe we could hang out some time,” she chirped, “I don’t know many cool spots or … cool people around—”

“No,” he remarked quickly with a shake of his head. He sounded cold, sure, but deep down he was screaming. He just wanted to get out of here; out of this situation, out of his skin, out of Eroda. “Sorry. Can’t.”

Hoping she would take the hint and retreat back inside, he stared at her intently as she nodded in response.

“Right, okay,” she started to turn around towards the pub and The Boy all but let out an actual sigh of relief. He started walking away, missing Enid stop in her tracks and whip back around to face him.

“Yeah, erm … Sorry, why?!”

Stopping briefly, the boy turned to look back at her. “Wha?”

“I asked why,” she repeated as she walked back up, “You sayin’ my shit stinks or somethin’?”

“What? No! ... I just don’t … _hang_ , with people.” He paused to think about it before shaking his head at her. “You shouldn’t even be talkin’ to me.”

“Because you’re peculiar?” The second he nodded she scoffed and shook her head. “No offense, but that’s a shite excuse.”

“Sorry?”

“I said it’s a _shite_ excuse,” She repeated. She shook her head and threw her hands up in the air. “I mean, who _cares_ if you’re a little funny. This whole _town_ is fuckin’ funny! A man just got _slapped_ in the pub back there for mentioning a pig. A pig!”

The Boy sputtered a small scoff and coughed. He didn't mean to laugh, but it did sound pretty silly. Thinking about it, a lot of what made Eroda what it was, was actually really … funny.

The fact that she called it out made the corners of his lips turn up in a smile.

“Enid!!” Flora all but yelped as she hurried down the steps. She ran right to her cousin’s side and took her by the arm, practically tugging her away. Poppy and Seán followed soonafter, running up to Flora’s side and eyeing the boy down.

“You should go home now, B.” Poppy spoke, the uneasiness clear in her soft voice.

“Yeh, piss off now,” Seán slung a protective arm over Enid’s shoulder and glared. “Doubt she’s in the mood to have her eyeballs burned out.”

“Seán!” Flora grit through her teeth.

The Boy didn’t respond. He glanced at Enid as she pried herself out of her cousin’s grip and Seán’s protective hold. His eyes flicked back over to Seán’s, the guy flashing that same menacing, cocky face he sported in primary school whenever he had the boy backed up in a corner. He was daring him to make a move, to try and start something. He had every intention of beating him into submission, and The Boy learned very early on that he could do it.

So, he said nothing. He didn’t retaliate or instigate anything further. Instead he just flashed a weak, defeated smile and turned away.

Seán stood a little straighter in triumph and clapped. “Theeere’s a good lad!”

“Seán don’t be a dick,” Poppy griped.

Enid watched as The Boy sauntered off into the dark, tail practically tucked between his legs. Part of her wanted to run after him and make sure he was okay, walk him home …

The four of them retreated back into the pub and ordered another round of drinks. As the twins told their side of a thrilling fishing tale, Enid sat quiet at the table nursing her pint of cider beer. As she stared into the amber liquid, her whole face lit up as a sudden thought crossed her mind.

She never got his name.

  
That same night, The Boy filled three mason jars with his screams before going to bed.

  
His dreams often felt like home movies. Snapshots of things that blinked in and out, choppy clips of memories in grainy, 70 millimeter film. Some things sped up or slowed down, sometimes there’d be audio, and sometimes there wasn’t.

He could feel his lips twitching into a smile as his mother held him. She helped him up to their apple tree, letting him pick one for him to hold. It felt so big between his tiny hands. He shivered at how cold it felt on the tip of his nose. He could smell the crisp sweetness behind it’s red and green skin.

Another snapshot. He was six years old and sitting on a bucket turned upside down at the Main Port. His father and Old Man Padraig were shucking oysters and talking. His father fed him an oyster for the first time with vinegar and onion. The taste made his face scrunch and his dad laughed, showing the space between his teeth.

More snapshots. The grime on the boat. The feel of the rope between his fingers. The smell of the sea …

He could feel his eyes starting to sting as he opened them. He squinted at the morning light pouring through his dirty window and turned away. He buried his face into his pillow and wiped his teary eyes on the fabric.

After breakfast, he spent morning shucking oysters, separating them by sticking the shells in one bucket, and the actual meat in a large strainer for cleaning. After counting carefully, he found he’d finally accumulated enough for the remaining pieces of Gran’s shrine. He made a mental note to head to the beach for more seashells. She liked seashells. Especially the tiny ones. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d find some beach glass too…

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the doorbell.

No one ever rang his doorbell.

When he opened his door, he found Enid standing before him at the bottom of his steps. Once again, she looked like she hopped right out of the 70’s, dressed in gaudy sunglasses, corduroy flares and a navy blue turtleneck.

She lifted the sunglasses from her face and gave him a faint smile. “Alright?”

“… Hhhi?” He frowned at her in confusion. “What are you doing he—”

“I know, I know you told you me about not wanting to be around people,” she interjected, “But before you tell me to piss off … can I come inside?”

She fidgeted a little in place, watching a range of emotions flash across his face. Confusion, reluctance, nervousness … when he finally nodded, she had to keep from acting too surprised and jumping a little in excitement. Instead she beamed and made her way up the stairs. The Boy stepped to the side and watched as she slipped in past him with a “cheers.” As he shut the door behind him, he suddenly realized that for the first time in years, he had someone other than family over. When he followed Enid into the living room, he couldn’t help but give the space a quick glance and discover that he wasn’t all prepared to have guests. He still had dishes and empty pizza boxes laying out. He hadn’t dusted in months and his clothes were in a heap in the corner.

The Londoner didn’t seem to mind at all. She meandered around the living room and carefully walked around, staring at everything as if it were a part of some museum display or gallery exhibition. She admired all the treasures and knick-knacks scattered around. His house had been a lot cozier than she expected. It didn’t look like it belonged to a young bachelor on his own. Everything seemed to have some sort of blue tinge to it. The wallpaper, the furniture, the rugs – even the curtains had this odd navy pattern to it. The place looked like it belonged to an old soul – Lots of old photos on the walls, fishing memorabilia, a dusty display case of Navy medals, and empty jars. Lots and lots of … mason jars.

It was a treasure trove of old-timey goods. She found handwritten letters, loads of polaroids, a box of old fishing bobs and hooks, a typewriter, a leather pipe tobacco case…

“You a collector of some sort?” she couldn’t help but ask as she sauntered over to a desk covered in junk.

“Of some sort,” He remarked, his insides twisting at the awkward tension weighing down on him. “What is it you want?”

She picked up a wooden box compass and admired it before setting it down. “I want to be friends with you.”

His face twisted at that. “... Why?”

“Because you’re the most interesting individual here.” She picked up an old magnifying glass and stared at him through it. “You _amuse_ me.”

One large, dark blue eye blinked at him and the corner of his mouth turned up. “Hate to tell you, but am not. Not in the least bit.”

“No?” She picked up an old brass bell and pointed at him with it. “You’ve got everyone on this island pissin’ themselves soon as you walk by. That makes _you_ a fuckin’ spectacle to me.”

“Why yeh so keen on bein’ m’friend?” He asked firmly, watching her continue to scour through his uncle’s things. “What’s makes yeh so sure yeh won’t drop me first chance?”

She let out an audible sigh and threw her head back.

“Blimey you’ve got _serious_ trust issues, don’t you?” She turned around to face him and leaned back against the edge of the old desk. She saw it plain as day on his face. He was wary of her. “Look, Teddy, I’m stuck here on this island for the whole of summer. Who the _fuck_ wants to be surrounded by shit weather, dead fish smell, and people who don’t ever smile?”

When he didn’t respond, she went on, folding her arms over her small chest.

“You’re the only one I’ve met who’ll at least _crack_ a smile, and you’re the one always alone,” she pointed out. Hearing it made his eyes fall to the floor. She leaned forward a little and tilted her head, attempting to make eye contact with him. “No one should be alone like that. Especially because they’re different. Right Teddy?”

He finally lifted his eyes to look at her and she smiled; a no-holds-barred kind of smile that made his stomach twist and ache. The sudden sensation made him mutter ‘what the fuck?’ under his breath. What on earth was that?

Never mind that. She was being serious right now. She genuinely wanted to be friends. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could answer her, he suddenly realized something.

“… wait, who’s Teddy?”

She perked up a little and flashed him a toothy grin, looking pleased as punch with herself.

“You are, ‘less yeh tell me your name,” His lips curved up into a smile and he shook his head. She simply shrugged it off and started digging around through more of his things. “Well I’m not calling you _‘The Boy’_ , which is crap by the way. So Teddy it is … You look like a Teddy.”

The boy winced as the sudden ache appeared again; hitting him square in the gut, almost causing him to double over and hit the floor. What the fuck _was_ that?!

“You want something to drink?” he said quickly, trying to push down the sickly feeling in his guts. He pointed a thumb over towards the kitchen. “Got tea, lemonade, apricot juice, really hard cider…”

“Ooh, cider?”

“S’my uncle’s,” he explained, his smile slipping faintly, “He’s been brewin’ it for donkey’s years. S’really strong.”

Enid mouthed a small ‘ah’ and nodded. “We’ll save that for a _particularly_ boring day, then. I’ll take a lemonade.”

He hurried into kitchen to get two glasses and a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge. Just as he started pouring a second glass, he stopped to jump as a loud gasp went off in the living room.

“We should play shithead!” He heard Enid call out. Suddenly, she poked her head in from the other room and stared at him, “Teddy, you got any playing cards around?”

The Boy blinked at her and the excited look on her freckled face. He hadn’t seen so much energy in someone before. No one on Eroda had. It must’ve been a city thing. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find it weirdly refreshing.

“... I-I’ll go and grab them.”

“Thanks,” She said with a smile. She disappeared into the other room before poking her head back in again, “Oh and grab your wallet too, yeah? We’re playing for bets.”

She disappeared once again, and The Boy couldn’t help but stifle a small chuckle under his breath. What an odd bird.

The two of them spent the entire afternoon doing things The Boy never knew could be so fun with someone else. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, talking trash while playing card games, watching reruns on TV, listening to music… Even making dinner for two had its own excitement. He never thought listening to _My Generation_ by The Who would make for good background music while the two of them cooked and danced in place. He liked to think that’s what made their _pasta puttanesca_ taste worlds better than it did when he made it by himself.

When it was time for her to head home, he found himself escorting her to the door and waving her goodbye with a closed-lip smile.

And so, from that very day, whether he liked it not, The Boy had his very first friend.

  
He scribbled a new entry into his journal, recording his findings on another odd soul he encountered. Enid McGuinness; A wide-eyed, blonde haired tourist who’s new in town visiting her aunt and cousin. Free-spirited and open, and very beautiful, she balanced out her feminine charm by her morbid humor and swearing like a sailor. She dresses very mod-70’s and enjoys photography, cigarettes, fruit-scented body mist and collecting records. She carries a single tube of strawberry colored lipstick in her bag and owns about as many sunglasses as she breaks. Which is a lot.

Within a few weeks they had become fast friends. Enid described it to him like losing a piece of the corner puzzle, then finding it again after having completed the rest, and then getting to actually complete it. He brought on a sense of joy and elation and calm. He was honest and open, and she genuinely enjoyed how he’d tell a funny quip or make a face here and there to make her laugh. She was fond of him.

The Boy felt the very same. She had this fiery sense of determination and inquisitiveness about her that he couldn’t help but find magnetic. It didn’t matter if the island stayed in perpetual dreary grey cloud cover. Somehow, in some inexpiable way, she brought on sunshine and color.


	3. Uncle Jack's Glorious Return to Port

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enid recruits a new body to join their friend group. The most feared man in Eroda returns, and The Boy summons the courage to show his new friends his amazing secret.

_Bus stop, wet day  
She's there, I say  
Please share my umbrella  
Bus stops, bus goes  
She stays, love grows  
Under my umbrella_

Enid swished and danced in place as she ran her curling iron through sections of her hair. The smell of hairspray and steam filled the air, mixing with the cigarette smoke coming from her cousin’s direction. Flora sat beside the open window and smoked, the two of them half-listening to the The Hollies coming through her Crosley record player.

_All that summer we enjoyed it  
Wind and rain and shine  
That umbrella we employed it  
By August she was mine_

Flora bobbed her head to the steady sound and pinched her cigarette between her lips. She took a small drag and exhaled into the air. “You comin’ to the pub with us tonight?”

“Can’t,” Enid said as she finished up styling her hair. She ran her fingers through her hair and tousled it, loosening the freshly ironed curls into beach waves. “I’m hanging with Teddy later. Might head to the cinema in town.”

“Ah,” She took another puff and sucked in a breath, exhaling slowly. “You his girlfriend now?”

The blonde turned to flash her cousin an odd look and laughed. “What? No!”

“You two best mates or something then?”

Enid thought on it for a second, her lips stretching into a smile at the word. “Yeh, I reckon.”

Her eyes flicked over to her Cousin who gave her a look all too familiar in the mirror. Like a mother openly disappointed with their child.

“Problem?” The blonde couldn’t help but ask.

Flora pulled the cigarette from her lips and huffed. “You can’t be serious, E.”

“Why not?” She heard her sigh and she scoffed at such a dramatic reaction. “He’s not _bad,_ Flo.”

“Never said he was, but he’s—”

“Peculiar?” She interjected, “What, because he dresses funny and drinks everything out of a straw?”

“ _No, Enid,_ ” Flora sat back a little in her seat and took another puff of her cigarette, exhaling sharply. “He’s got … problems. _Serious_ problems.”

“Like what,” Enid challenged, still frowning at her cousin in the mirror. Flora rolled her eyes with a disappointed ‘ugh’ and shook her head.

“Well for starters he can—"

Just then, the doorbell downstairs let out a frantic buzz. Enid held up her finger and stopped her mid-sentence.

“Soz, hold that thought.”

“… Fine,” Flora chirped as she reached forward, gently flicking her ash away in the tray in front of her.

  
With loud, thumping steps, Enid hurried down the stairs and slid over to the front door with a running start. In one fluid sweep she opened up the door to find a young boy (looking around 13 or so) with light brown skin and a freshly cut afro fade standing there before her. He had on the most normal looking outfit to date and carried a backpack stuffed with newspapers. He appeared busy texting someone, his thumbs tapping across his screen at record speed.

Enid opened the door a little wider and leaned against the frame with an amused smile. “Alright, Bobi?”

“Paper for you.” Without skipping a beat, he shoved his phone into his jacket and moved to slide his bag off his shoulders. He reached into his clear backpack and pulled out a rather thin-looking Garona Daily. Another slow news day in Eroda.

He watched her open it up and skim through it, looking genuinely interested in the goings-on of the small seaside town. “You goin’ to see him today?”

“Who? Teddy?” She saw the boy nod and her eyebrow quirked upwards. “Why?”

His lips twisted to the side as he shrugged. He had an answer of course, but he’d be dead before he admits it aloud. “Wonderin’.”

“Honestly Bobi, he doesn’t bite.” She rolled up the paper once more and pointed at him with it. “I see you riding around his block, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“W-wha?” He forced a scoff and a wonky smile. “What yeh on about? I'm a delivery boy, 'course ah've been on his block.”

“Don’t play stupid, I’ve _seen_ you,” She insisted. She folded her arms and stared at him intently. The big sister in her had come out in full force. “Just say hi to him already. S’getting’ weird, seein’ yeh staring all the time.”

“I-I don’t stare!” His face fell into a pout the second she flashed him a look of disbelief. “Well … Wha’ever!” He looked away in refusal, his voice falling into a mumble. “… just didn’t think he’d bother, bein’ anyone’s friend and all.”

“He didn’t,” She replied as she rested her head on her doorframe. “Practically had to twist his bloody arm just to get him to be mine.”

Bobi’s eyes met hers and he caught the friendly smile stretching across her pink lips.

“He’s friendly though, I promise you. You’ll like him.” For a split-second, a hint of solemnness appeared in her voice. “Reckon everyone would, if they gave him the chance…”

Just then, she got an idea. She lifted her head off the door-frame and stood a little straighter, her expression brightening. “Matter of fact, we’ll go pay him a visit.”

“W… Wait, now?” Bobi all but yelped as she shut the door and slipped past him.

“Yes! Now, Bobi. C’mon.” She gestured for the boy to follow her, and together they sprinted through the neighborhood, heading towards the Boy’s house. 

Carrying a bagful of snacks and drinks from the corner store, both Enid and Bobi walked through Seaview Terrace, a narrow stretch of road lined wall to wall with cottages. They stopped at the plain one wedged between two stone cottages; painted an eggshell white with a rather garish teal green paint job on the windows and door-frame. As Enid repeatedly pressed the doorbell with her elbow, Bobi stopped to look at the rusted nameplate tacked above the door, reading “Primrose Cottage” in artsy lettering.

The preteen suddenly jumped as the door swung open, and The Boy poked his head out. He answered the door looking visibly distraught but dressed strangely colorful and dapper. He wore a black and white striped T-shirt a size too small, a deep red jacket with hot pink trim two sizes too big, and salmon trousers that started halfway up his waist. He tried taming down his unruly hair with a red bandana tied around his head, but it did very little to help.

“Teddy! Hey,” Enid chirped, holding up the bag in her hands. “We come bearing gifts. We were won—”

“Sh!” He bit sharply, whipping his head around to look back before stepping out. He quietly shut the door behind him and stood there, only inches from pressing into them. Bobi had to take a few steps back just from how awkward the distance was between them. Enid stayed anchored to where she was, frowning at her friend’s odd behavior.

“What’s got you all—” She let out a yelp as a hand suddenly clamped over her mouth.

“Shhh!” He hissed again, “M’Uncle’s here.”

Bobi’s eyes suddenly got wide and Enid shoved his hand away, keeping her voice down. “So?”

“So?!” Bobi almost squeaked. He pointed towards the Boy looking terrified, “His uncle is Jack the Lad!”

When he didn’t explain any further, Enid stared at them both in confusion. “… Well who the _fuck_ is Jack the Lad?”

“One of the most feared men in Eroda.” Bobi swallowed thickly and gazed at her. “And Captain of the Hegesilaus.”

Enid shrugged and shook her head at him. So he was a captain of some boat. Was any of that supposed to mean something to her?

“He made port late last night,” The Boy whispered, leaning over to peek into the window beside him. “He probably won’t stay long after he’s slept, but you should come back some other time.”

“Okay, now you’re freaking me out,” she replied lowly. She didn’t like how he was acting and how scared Bobi looked. What did it matter if his uncle was home? Was he a criminal? A drunk? A guy with a short fuse and an explosive temper? She had dealt with her fair share of problematic relatives belonging to her friends, but the look on both their faces …

Something told her that this was more than that.

And that, maybe, it was better for them to come back later.

“… Alright,” she whispered to her friend, staring at him intently. “Tomorrow, then. Yeah?”

The Boy turned back around to face her and nodded. He flashed her a thankful smile, one that she couldn’t help but match before jumping as the door behind him swung open. The Boy jerked forward and whipped around, staring wide-eyed at his uncle, now wide awake with a cigarette dangling between his lips.

The moment Enid got a good look at Jack the Lad, the first thing that came to mind was ‘Wow.’ _Wow._ His uncle didn’t look like an uncle at all. He wasn’t some stout, balding man with a red face and a permanent scowl. He was lean and hirsute, with calloused hands and skin tanned and weathered from sun exposure. He had long since neglected his appearance; a dark beard with flecks of grey, and long hair tied back in a bun far too sloppily to be considered deliberate. His face was stunning as the Boy’s (in that which they were similar), but it was also hard and fearful, enough to make anyone shit themselves.

Or at least stand down with their tail tucked between their legs.

He looked to the three of them with heavy lidded eyes, saying nothing for a second or two. Then, they fell onto his nephew, and The Boy looked like he wanted to jump right out of his skin. Enid agreed with him wholeheartedly.

“Don’t be rude, Curly.” Jack pulled the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled sharply into the air. He tilted his head towards the rest of the house. “Why not invite ya mates in?”

Bobi’s eyes went the size of tennis balls and he started to take a step back. “W-We were just leavin’ sir—”

“Nonsense. Come in.” The man stepped back and pushed the door open a little wider. He stared the three of them down and without any further objection, they marched in one by one. As they walked through the narrow stretch of hallway, all three of them exchanged the same terrified, scared-shitless stares with each other.

  
Bobi and Enid took a seat on the couch, practically squeezing together at the shoulder as they sat up perfectly straight like a pair of obedient school children. They dared not say a word. They simply watched, observing the Captain and his nephew and choking on the stifling tension that filled the air. The Boy mumbled something about tea and retreated into the kitchen. But not before glancing over at Enid and having a whole wordless conversation with her. She practically screamed for him to come back while he demanded she sit still and say nothing to him.

So, Enid sat there, saying nothing, doing nothing as the Boy prepared the tea and his uncle smoked and sat back sideways across the loveseat. She tried not to stare at him so much (her eyes wandering elsewhere at the décor around the room), but she couldn’t help it. The man was just so … Peculiar. While Teddy dressed in bold colors and clashing patterns and donned painted nails, his uncle dressed the exact opposite to him. An old zip-up hoodie layered under a denim trucker jacket, T-shirt stained and full of holes, dark washed denim ripped at the knees, and distressed lace-up boots that he just barely bothered to tie. She couldn’t believe this rugged greaseball of a man was related to Teddy. She just couldn’t.

“S-so …” Enid coughed and cleared her throat, turning to face Jack with a forced smile, “Are you a fisherman as well?”

Bobi flashed her a weird look and she regretted it as soon as she said it. What a stupid question. They lived in a fishing village for Christ’s sake. What else would he be?

The man seemed amused by it, though. His lips turned up into a smirk as he pinched the end of his burning cigarette between his lips. “Somethin’ like that—”

“He’s a pirate,” The Boy spoke up. He came back into the room holding a tea tray with a fine floral-printed China Set on top. The rugged captain let out a chuckle and pointed at him.

“Right you are, lad.” He reached over to the coffee table and smothered his cigarette in the ashtray. “I’m a pirate. I scour the seas in search of glory and fortune.”

Bobi couldn’t help but gulp the moment he spotted the snake and swallow inked in blackwork on his right hand.

“He’s a treasure hunter,” Teddy said as he set the tray down on the table. Before he had a chance to grab the pot, his uncle leaned forward and stopped him by the wrist. His shark grey eyes met his nephew’s mossy greens. Both Enid and Bobi stared at the two of them, unsure of what was happening and where it would lead. If they didn’t know any better, they would’ve thought this little stare off would end in growling and snapping jaws, like a pair of power-hungry wolves.

Whatever was said (or not said) between them, it was enough for Jack’s hold on his nephew’s wrist to loosen, and his cold expression soften.

“… Marine Archaeologist,” He corrected suddenly. The Boy said nothing in response. He merely pulled his wrist away and took a seat on the couch. The Captain took the pot in his hand and began pouring for everyone, handing out the cups along the way. “The boys and I found a sizeable bronze statue buried just outside Tahiti. The museum low-balled us for it, of course, but desperate times, aye?” 

Enid took her cup with a timid smile and mouthed a small ‘thank you’. Bobi did the same, taking a tiny sip before setting the cup back down.

“What about you then, Goldie?”

Enid looked up from her cup and tensed. “Sorry?”

“Never seen yeh ‘round here before,” Jack remarked. He sat back across the loveseat and sighed, throwing his legs over the arm rest and gently swaying them back and forth. “You here on holiday or something? Off on a grand _island getaway_?”

“I-I’m visiting family,” she admitted, “Taking a break from the city, getting London out me lungs and all ...”

“Ah, _London._ Thought as much with that little accent of yours.” He flashed a smile eerily similar to the Boy’s, and finally Enid could see how they were related. “Ah followed a girl to London once. Fell head over heels for her, I did.”

Enid mouthed a small ‘oh’, genuinely interested in that little tidbit divulged from the so-called fearsome Captain. “Did you whisk her away and sail off into the sunset with her?”

The man let out a hearty chuckle and shook his head. “She went and fell for some other poor sod—”

The Boy set his cup down on the table a little too hard, and the _clang!_ made Enid jump a little in her seat. The noise made both Bobi and Jack look over at him at the same time. The Boy’s lips pursed to a thin line. His nostrils flared as anger started bubbling in the pit of his stomach. The Captain couldn’t help but quietly laugh at it. The whole display seemed laughable. He always thought the kid rather dramatic. He felt everything deeply, far too deep for his own good. It was a trait he most certainly gained from his mother; god rest her soul.

“Well, not that this isn’t _riveting,_ but I must be off.” He pushed himself off the couch and stood up, staring down at the blonde with a faint smile. “It was nice to meet you, erhm …”

“Enid,” she answered. She pointed a thumb at the kid seated next to her. “And this is Bobi.”

“Right-o, Enid, Bobi. Nice to meet you,” he held out a hand and Bobi shook it, taking note of how rough his palms were from the callouses. The disheveled Captain turned around on his heel and held his arms out, allowing the Boy to step forward and give him a reluctant hug. Enid examined the whole display curiously. Despite the obvious tension between them, the uncle showed his nephew nothing but love. The man held him close and tight, like he was both a lifeline and a precious object. He gave the side of his head a firm kiss before letting go, giving his shoulders a solid, friendly pat.

“I’ll be back in a few weeks, yeah?” He cradled the Boy’s face, briefly admiring the small echoes of his mother and father’s features in it. He looked even more like them as time went on. “Next run, you’ll come out with me and the boys. Get a taste of what true freedom is like.” 

“… Yeah, sure,” The Boy mumbled. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wad of bank notes. “For supplies.”

Jack’s lips stretched into a knowing smile as he took it, giving him a salute with it before shoving it into his own pocket. “Cheers, Curly … I’ll see you later, then.”

He slipped past and headed straight for the door, giving the three a final wave before leaving.

As soon as he heard the door shut, the three friends seemed to physically deflate. Enid fell back into the couch with a sigh, and Bobi let his face fall into his hands. He let out a breath he had no clue he was holding on to. The Boy shut his eyes and took a much-needed breath through his nose, silently trying to calm himself down as he tried to think of what he could sell to make up for the two months of grocery money he just lost.

Enid’s brows fell into a small frown as she caught the pained look on his face. She wanted to ask him about it, but before she can, his gaze immediately went over to Bobi and stayed there. She perked up instantly with an ‘Oh!’. She almost forgot. 

“Teddy, this is Bobi,” She introduced with a faint smile, “Bobi, Teddy. Teddy, Bobi. He wants to be friends with us, so he’s our new friend.”

Bobi looked up from his hands and tensed. The Boy’s eyes scanned him over once before giving a simple nod and saying, “… Okay.”

The young paper boy had to keep from looking over at Enid in shock. Okay. Okay? Wow. He couldn’t believe it. He just accepted what she said as gospel and that was that. Either he was one hell of a pushover, or Enid must have really twisted his arm. He couldn’t help but be amazed, and a little impressed.

It really was that easy.

  
The next few weeks were a whirlwind for the Boy. His uncle hadn’t returned yet as he promised, but it was to be expected. He never did, and it had been that way for a while. Only now, the time usually spent alone in his room waiting were no more. Instead, they were filled with time spent with Bobi and Enid: Riding bikes around the island, combing the beach for shells, hiking to his favorite spot on the cliffs to have picnics...

On one particularly sticky night they went out for one of Enid’s favorite foods. Bobi had bragged about how Eroda prided itself on some of the freshest, prize-winning seafood around. She hadn’t lived until she had their village's famous beer-battered fish and chips with malt vinegar and dill mayo.

“My Da owns the shack just down High Street,” He explained as he pointed in the direction of the fish market. “Got the best oysters too. Goes well with me mum’s mignonette sauce.”

The Boy’s attention went elsewhere as Enid and Bobi continued to chat. His eyes landed on every local who walked past them, each one unafraid to stare directly at him and his new friends. He made sure to pinch his lips shut and keep his head down, but it didn’t stop him from catching glimpses of their blatant stares and obvious frowns of disapproval. Even as they sat outside on the benches to eat and chat over bottles of hard cider, he couldn’t help but notice how Kieran glared at her nephew Bobi, or how pastor Delwyn walked away a little faster as Enid tried to say hi. Everyone’s behavior made his heart sink harder than usual. Perhaps it was because they knew he had friends he knowingly put at risk. Friends that, at the end of the day, he didn’t deserve …

“Fuckin’ wierdos,” he heard Enid mumble beside him. He adjusted his head and saw her shove a chip smothered in ketchup in her mouth. She wore a hard frown on her freckled face. Seeing it made his stomach do a flip again.

“Ah don’t get why everyone treats yeh like that,” she spoke with her mouth full. “So what if you act a little weird, s’not like yeh got the bloody plague.”

“It’s not that,” Bobi sighed as he took a slurp from his capri sun. He tore off a chunk of fried cod and dunked it in tartar sauce. “S’kinda hard to explain.”

“Well someone bloody explain it to me, then,” She griped. She took a quick swig of her cider and swallowed. “Because to me, it’s lookin’ like everyone’s … I dunno, homophobic or some shit.”

The Boy nearly choked mid-sip and sputtered his drink out onto the ground. Bobi flashed her a weird look and started to laugh. “ _Wha?!_ ”

“Am not _gay_ Enid,” The Boy chuckled, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

The blonde rolled her eyes and threw her hand up. "Queerphobic, then! Wha’ever! Point is, everyone treats you like shit for a reason _nobody’s_ willing to say. It’s bollocks!”

The Boy took a small sip of his drink and stared in silent awe at the frustrated look on his best friend’s face. Everyone on the island knew to stay away from him. They all tried to warn her, but she openly ignored their advice and rejected their attempts at getting her to accept how things were. She didn’t care that he painted his nails and dressed like an old man from the 60’s and 70’s. She accepted every bizarre ritual and odd routine he did, and still loved him for it. Some could even argue that she loved him _more_ for it.

Perhaps, then … maybe she’d be okay with it.

Maybe, he felt … just maybe, it was time to show her his secret.

“Y-You sure about this, B?” Bobi gave him an uneasy look as they retreated to a secluded spot just outside the fish market. He led them to an area dark enough for his plan to work, and well enough away to not attract any attention.

“Should be fine,” he assured with a tiny nod. He took a few steps forward and turned back around to face them. Enid folded her arms and eyed him, confused and slightly suspicious.

“You gonna try and murder us or something?”

With a loud “Ugh!” Bobi threw his head back and rolled his eyes.

“ _Christ,_ Enid,” The Boy remarked with a frown.

“What?! You’re freaking me out!”

Bobi reached over and gently swatted her on the arm. “He’s not gonna _murder_ us!”

“I just want to show you something,” The Boy insisted.

“Fine then,” Enid huffed. She stood a little straighter and stared at him expectantly. “…Well, go on.”

A wave of anxiousness started bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “You might want to, er … prepare.”

“Prepare for what?” She asked. She saw Bobi slip on his sunglasses with a sigh and take a step to the side. The Boy shut his eyes and took a few calming breaths through his nose. Like an old home movie flickering behind his eyelids, he pictured his mum. She held his little 5-year-old self and waved to the camera as they shared a slice of fresh cut watermelon together.

He felt his lips stretching into a full blown, toothy smile.

He opened his eyes to see Enid’s were scrunched shut. She held a hand in front of her, shielding herself from the blinding, beaming white light that seemed to come out of nowhere and smack her right in the face. When it finally faded out, she opened them again to see the boy standing there looking hesitant. His closed smile turned crooked, but hopeful. 

“See? Told you." Bobi slipped off his sunglasses and threw a hand his way. "S’hard to explain that, innit?”

Enid said nothing in response. The two boys merely examined her and the look of disbelief on her face, her eyes slowly growing wider by the second.

“… Wha juss happened?” she breathed out. For a moment the boy felt a pang of sadness in his gut. His eyes fell to his boots, saying nothing to her in response. The blonde turned towards Bobi with her eyes as wide as tennis balls. “You saw that, right? That wasn’t just me?" She pointed back over toward the Boy. "… Th-That just happened, yeah?!”

The teen nodded rapidly in agreement. “Yeh, it did. It’s—”

“Amazing!” She cried out, running right up to her friend. The Boy’s heart started pounding as she stared him over like he had completely transformed into something new. _Someone_ new. “Fuck _me_ that’s amazing. How you doin’ that?!”

“D … Dunno,” said The Boy, shaking his head slightly. “S’just somethin’ I’ve been able to d—”

“Is _that_ what’s got everyone shitting themselves when you walk by?!” She exclaimed, “A smile that lights up everything?!”

The corner of his mouth turned up at her excitement and he couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “W-Well, it doesn’t _just_ light up—”

“He set fire to a lady’s umbrella once!” Bobi added.

Enid jumped a little in place and squealed.

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s so cool!” She let out a shrill gasp and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Teddy, we gotta see what else you can do with it.”

The Boy took notice of how her eyes practically sparkled with genuine excitement. The fact that she didn’t scream or shun him or run … It only made his heart pump harder, and his insides twist more with that sickly-sweet ache.

His lips turned up in a crooked smile and he gave her a nod. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” The second he nodded again she let out an excited noise and took his hand, “Wicked. Come on!”

After discovering the Boy’s amazing and peculiar secret, the rest of the summer was spent seeing what they could do with it. They ended up conducting all sorts of experiments. Aluminum foil tanning. Shadow puppet theater. Lighting Bonfires. Attempting Morse code in the dark. The Boy had no idea that summers could be this fun, that they could be spent carefree, doing whatever they wanted as friends, a crew.

_“In the summertime when the weather is hot  
You can stretch right up and touch the sky  
When the weather's fine  
You got women, you got women on your mind  
Have a drink, have a drive  
Go out and see what you can find…”_

Both Enid and the Boy bobbed their toes to the beat of Mungo Jerry crackling through Bobi’s old radio. The three of them spent the afternoon on the cliffside, laying out on towels eating lolly ices. It didn’t matter if the sky turned grey and the weather felt humid as all hell, they still sported sunglasses and summer clothes and enjoyed the day.

The blonde sighed as she stared up at the sky. “Christ, I wish the sun’d come out…”

The Boy turned his head to face her. Looking at her in a more relaxed setting was like looking at her in a new light – embarking on a scavenger hunt of tiny details and discovering something new with each glance. He couldn’t help but notice how long her lashes were, and how her nose had a little stud piercing in it. She had a scar on her jaw, blemishes on the skin of her cheek …

The second she turned to look at him he immediately looked away, hiding the tiny smile on his lips.

“Ah mean it. Just once before summer’s over, I’d like to _see_ a ray of sunshine,” She reached over and gently nudged him with her elbow. “And I don’t mean that wonky grin of yours, either.”

The Boy felt his whole face warm up. He tried to chuckle it off, smiling a lopsided smile before taking another lick at the ice lolly in his hand. He smiled at the sharpness of lemon mixed with the floral sweetness coming from the dandelion syrup. He wished he could have more days like these, but the clock was ticking. As summer gradually wound down to a close, so did Enid’s time in Eroda. Knowing that kind of bummed him out. Soon, these outings wouldn’t be a thing anymore. As soon as she went back, spending warm summers with friends, eating sweets by the cliffside – all of it would be a thing of the past …

He tore himself from his thoughts as he heard a loud and ungodly slurp. As soon as he whipped his head to the left, he saw Enid in a giggling fit while Bobi struggled to keep his ice lolly from breaking off his stick. The teen made a noise at her and swore and that only made her throw her head back and laugh.

That alone made his lips stretch into a grin. Seeing her like that, all happy made his heart thunder behind his chest.

By the time they left for home it had already gotten dark, and the lamps that lined the village streets had turned on. The three of them rode their bikes along the designated path towards the village, rolling downhill at an increasing speed. The Boy hung back a little as his two friends raced ahead with each other. As Bobi started gaining the lead, Enid’s grips on the handles grew tight and she rode for her life, her legs pumping harder on the pedals as she stood up. 

“Come on, Teddy!” She called behind her, leaning forward to gain more momentum. The Boy cycled after her, finally catching up as she slowed down at the turn. As they rode together in sync, He couldn’t help but look her way and admire how terribly endearing she appeared. Strands of her hair seemed to dance on the evening breeze that whipped around them. And while her face was already pretty to begin with, the focused look she gave made it more so. It made his lips turn up in a smile. It made him want to ride harder and try to beat her in the race.

The race ended in a tie as they neared Bobi’s house. The teen wished them both goodnight as he pulled up to a stop in his little narrow driveway. Both Enid and the Boy waved him goodnight and promised to see him some time tomorrow.

After that, the energy seemed to shift. Things fell into a comfortable silence as the two of them rode in the same direction. He watched with an amused smile as Enid rode her bike around him, circling him in the street with a playful look on her face. He stifled a small scoff and kept riding ahead, sticking his tongue at her. As soon as she caught up to him, she reached over and tried punching him in the arm, yelping as she nearly fell of her bike.

When they approached her aunt’s home, she stopped just outside the driveway and bid him goodnight. She blew him a dramatic kiss as he rode on down the street, and in return he let out a dramatic gasp and pretended to catch it. When he heard the bell on her bicycle let out a delicate tinkle he waved, turning the corner onto his street.

He went to bed that night feeling all flustered and giddy, with his heart racing and his insides twisting with delight. He felt elated. He felt lightheaded and drunk at the same time. He felt like he could run a mile. 10 miles. 100. He had to keep from fidgeting in bed and screaming his head off.

He fell asleep dreaming of a roadtrip with his friends down an unknown highway. He dreamt of the wind whipping through his hair and the sunlight streaming between his fingers. Enid sat in the passenger side with her top half sticking out the window, hair glowing in the sun as she stuck out her arms and basked in it. Bobi sat in the back seat smiling with his headphones on, bobbing up and down to music The Boy couldn’t hear. Everything felt so peaceful, and calm… This was it, he thought.

This was the feeling he was missing his whole life.

“I swear you were an old nan in your past life,” Enid said the next day as she followed The Boy through the little fabric shop. He had his hands full of spare needles and different-colored yarns for knitting. “How are you _already_ on another sweater? Just saw you start one two days ago!”

“That was for a customer online,” He remarked. He pulled off a bundle of mustard yellow yarn and admired it. “What y’think about this one?”

“It’s nice,” she said simply with a sigh, “Can’t we go somewhere today? Like, to the beach or something? … Hell, I’ll even sit though one of Keiran’s watercolor classes. Just something— _anything_ other than watching you knit.”

“Ah could teach you how,” he offered with a cheeky smile on his face. She folded her arms at him and smirked.

“Teddy at this point, _I_ could teach you,” she retorted. She followed him over to the checkout counter and watched as he started to get rung up. “I’ve seen you knit a million and one times. Why yeh even thinking about sweaters and scarves? It’s summer.”

As he handed the shopkeeper a couple banknotes, he saw Enid shift from the corner of his eye. She leaned in and got really close, attempting to make eye contact with him.

“We could go sailing today.” She wiggled her brows at him and giggled as he smiled and shook his head. “C’mon, Teddy! It’s an even number day, and your boat could use the workout. You and I could run off and set sail for England.”

Once he got his receipt, she grabbed the bag and carried it for him as they left the store. The whole time they walked down the street, she begged and pleaded and bargained with him. Just once, she said, just once before she left. She wanted to experience sailing with her best friend.

“Wha?” The Boy stopped in his tracks to stare at her, his green eyes widening slightly. Enid stopped to face him and sighed. He was dozing off again.

“I said I wanted to experience sailing!” She repeated.

“N-No, I mean you…” He swallowed thickly and paused for a second. “Y’called me your best friend.”

Confused, Enid’s eyes darted from left to right before going back to him again. “… Yeah. So?”

The Boy felt his heart starting to pang against his chest. Like a mallet to a drum, he could feel it smacking against his sternum – like it could be seen thumping in and out from under his shirt. His words left him. His train of thought de-railed with no hope of returning. Her best friend. Her _best_ friend…

“… Oka—” his voice cracked for a split-second and he coughed to clear it. “O-Okay.”

“Really?” Her freckled face lit up as he nodded. She jumped a little in place and let out an excited squeak. He had to keep from letting out a noise as his guts did a backflip. He found it awfully cute.

“Ugh! I can’t wait. This’ll be fun, I promise.” She gave arm a friendly squeeze and smiled. “You and me. Gilligan and Skipper, yeah?” As soon as he peeped a small ‘yeah’, she reached over and pulled him into a tight hug, playfully ruffling his hair before letting go.

As she hurried down the street to drop his things off, the boy relished in the sickly, elated feeling that washed over him. Seeing her so happy, knowing that he gave that to her … There was no other feeling like it. Now, he just wanted to give her everything and anything, no matter what it was. If it would make her this happy, he’d walk through fire for it. For her. No questions asked.

And that’s when he realized it.

No matter how much it elated and terrified him, he was falling for her.

He was sure of it when they were out on his boat. As she wore his black skipper cap and ascot and peered out at the sea through his grandpa’s binoculars, he found himself wanting to stay like this forever with her. It didn’t matter if they were stuck on this dreary grey island. Here, with her, everything felt like a rainbow paradise. And all he wanted to do was walk through it with her. 

“Is your uncle really a pirate?”

The Boy snapped out of his thoughts and saw Enid standing at the end of the boat, staring at him intently. “Earlier, you said your uncle hunts for treasure. Has he ever found any?”

“… few things here and there,” he admitted lowly. “Nothin’ worth calling the papers over, to be honest.”

It was a shame, really. As a child, he really did think his uncle a pirate. Not just from his gruff appearance and his deep respect of the sea, but also his thirst for adventure and his reckless desire for power. Him and his brother grew up rather poor, being brought up by a distant relative in an old shed by the sea. While his father wanted nothing more than to earn decent work and settle down with a family, his uncle Jack wanted more. Worlds more.

He could recall countless stories his uncle would tell each time he came home: Of deadly Sirens and ghost ships and being nearly pulled under by a terrifying sea creature. He’d come home with various trinkets and treasures as “proof” – things that as a child, the Boy really believed were from his many adventures.

“Wouldn’t it be mad if he found something like mermaid? Or the lost city of Atlantis?” Enid chirped with a smile.

The Boy scoffed a little through his nose and stood up to scan the waves. “If anyone could, it’d be him.”

“You admire him, don’t you?” She carefully turned around and took a seat across from him, watching as he maneuvered tiller and got the boat to sail towards the right. “You sound like you admire him.”

“Not really,” he admitted with a slight shrug. “A-Ah mean, kind of, I guess … I mean he’s out there, doing what he loves, pursuing what he wants…”

She leaned over and propped and elbow up on her knees, resting her chin in her hand. “What do you want?”

“The truth?” The second she nodded, his eyes pointed away towards the sea. “It’s kind of stupid.”

The girl shrugged simply and smiled, waiting for him to answer.

“What m’dad wanted?” He confessed quietly. “Y’know, settle down, find someone, love ‘em to death and to just … be.”

When he stared back at his best friend, he half-expected her to be holding in a laugh and struggling to keep from poking fun of him. Instead, he found her doing the opposite. Her strawberry-colored lips kept that warm smile, and she gazed at him with nothing but fondness.

“That’s not stupid at all, Teddy.”

“… Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she assured, “nothin’ stupid about wanting to love and be loved. It’s sweet, really.”

A hot blush spread across the boy’s cheeks and he had to look away to keep from flashing a wonky grin. Instead he kept his focus on the ocean, rather than his heart thumping behind his chest.

“What happened to your dad?” He heard her ask. He turned his attention to her, watching as she stood up and moved to sit next to him. “I know you lived with your uncle for a bit, and then your gran, but what about your parents?”

Suddenly, a dark, sinking feeling soon replaced the sweet sickly ache, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He’d forgotten that Enid wasn’t from the village, where everyone knew everything about everyone. She didn’t know about Eroda’s most devastating loss to date. The tragedy that struck shortly before the village of Garona changed forever, and everyone lost their smiles for good.

“They went out with an old Navy friend of m’dads an’ …. got hit by a storm,” He swallowed thickly and kept his eyes out towards the sea, watching the plane of dark murky blue roll and dip. “They capsized off the coast of Ireland…”

Enid’s expression quickly turned doleful at his admission. Sadness clouded his stunning features and his eyes pointed away, as if ashamed by the admission…or rather, wounded by it. 

“… m’dad’s friend washed up on the beach a week later, so … Ah guess everyone just assumes they were buried at sea.”

“Oh, Teddy,” she breathed, finally earning his attention once more as they made eye contact. She scooted closer and linked her arm with his. “I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be,” He gave a pathetic chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s silly, really … I still find m'self staring out at sea, hoping I’ll see his flags on the horizon…that he and mum will just … come _sailing_ up to port and crowing out to me like they always did.”

Enid could feel her heart aching as she saw the pain clear as day on her best friend's his face. He did his best to try and ease her worry with a smile, but it was no use. 

“I know they’re gone, and I’ve accepted that," he looked down at his hands, anxiously picking at his painted nails. "I guess a part of me can't help but have a bit of hope, though..." 

Holding his arm securely, she leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. The Boy said nothing for some time. He sat there in comfortable silence with her, the two of them watching the ocean and letting the boat coast along in whatever direction it wanted. She grasped his hand gently and squeezed it a little. He squeezed it back in response, letting her know that he was okay with it. And while the act normally would have had his heart racing and his face turning red, he found himself smiling weakly and feeling a sense of grim calmness. He didn’t like to think about that part of his life. It hurt. And it would always hurt. But he wanted Enid to know. He wanted her to know everything and anything about him; the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, and vice versa.

After all, that’s what best friends did.

He felt thankful for that. Over anything, he felt thankful for having her as a friend, someone other than a therapist to actually talk to about those parts of his life. He tilted his head and leaned against her to let her know as much.

His eyes fluttered shut and he smiled weakly, gently nuzzling the top of her head with the side of his cheek. She gave his hand another gentle squeeze and together they watched as the sun slowly started to set in the sky.

“What’s London like?” The Boy asked as they sat together under a fort made of blankets, pillows, and cushions. They sat cross-legged on the floor with snacks, a big bowl of buttered popcorn, and empty mugs of hard cider surrounding them. Enid held a book from his dad’s collection up to her face, reading casually about Robinson Crusoe and his many blunders out at sea.

“It’s alright. Lots of history. Good pubs, shite people,” she lowered her book to look his way, pausing to think about it before chuckling. “Actually, the pubs aren’t even that great. Fuck London.”

The Boy stifled a small chuckle and reached for the popcorn, eating away at a small handful as Enid closed up her book and turned on her side to face him.

“I’m going to school there,” She confessed. “Queen Mary University. I want to be a Zoologist.”

The Boy’s brows lifted up in surprise. “Zoologist?”

“Yep! The best in Britain,” She flashed a dreamy grin at the very thought of it. “You can thank Steve Irwin for it. And Jane Goodall. Loved them growing up.”

The Boy mouthed a small ‘Ah’ in understanding. Even though he pegged her for a fashion student at first glance, he found her answer a welcome surprise. Zoology. He never would have guessed.

“D’you want to go to Uni?” She propped her head up onto her hand and stared at him curiously. The Boy simply shrugged and shook his head in response.

“Dunno,” he answered honestly, “M’parents never did… and we don’t have university here on the island.”

The blonde let out a loud ‘pfft!’ and scoffed.

‘Well why the hell would you?” she said with a giggle. “I meant is there a Uni you’d want to go to out _there_. In the world. Beyond Eroda.”

Beyond Eroda. He had thought of what was beyond Eroda a great deal. He dreamed about it often, but never did he think about going out there to study. To pursue a degree. A true passion…

“… Haven’t thought about it, to be honest.”

“’course you haven’t,” the girl teased, yelping as he grabbed a pillow attempted to smack her with it. She rolled over to grab the throw pillow beside her.

She struggled to keep back a smile as she reared her arm back and swatted him on the side, the Boy laughing and curling in slightly.

“ _Stop_ being a shit,” She laughed, swinging at his shoulder and missing as he leaned back.

“Make me,” He mumbled with a crooked smirk on his lips.

“Oh I'll make you,” She assured.

“Yeah?” He asked. She was just about to respond when he suddenly moved. He crawled forward quickly and wrapped his arms around her, half-tackling her over and keeping her locked in his embrace. The blonde let out a noise and playfully punched him on the sides, pretend scrapping with him as the two of them giggled and laughed like a pair of children. After a few minutes they play-fighting stopped, and their laughter died down into quiet pants and stifled giggles. They simply laid there next to one another, staring up at the constellation pattern stitched into the fabric ceiling above them.

With that, he reached over for the old kerosene lantern and turned it out.

For a few seconds the two of them shifted around to get comfortable, twisting this way and that in the blankets before resulting in a spooning position neither of them seemed to mind. Although for a split-second, he did find it interesting how she elected to be the big spoon with his back towards her.

“You’d do well in London,” he heard her yawn out from behind him.

The Boy stared out in the dark, thankful that in this moment, his reddened cheeks couldn’t be seen. “Y-Yeah?”

“Mhm. You’d fit right in,” she mumbled. There was a long pause, and for a moment the Boy thought her asleep before she spoke up again. “You’re comin’ to visit me when I head back … I’ll show you around.”

Deep down, he was thankful her hand was resting on his side. Were it on his chest, he thought, he feared she would feel it racing. He found part of himself wanting to turn around and face her, whisper out in the dark and admit his true feelings to her. The other more rational part had to talk him down, encourage him to get some actual sleep. The whole night he laid there with this feeling. He felt like if he didn’t tell her he would burst. He managed to swallow it down and get some sleep, but the feeling still remained.

And it was terribly uncomfortable.

  
It all hit a head the following week. They were coming down from a race up the grassy hill by an old sheep farm. The whole time they walked, The Boy felt that sickly ache, fidgeting with his hands and chewing on the inside of his cheek. Enid was busy ranting about something he was far too preoccupied to hear. _Truly_ hear. Sure, he could make eye contact and mumble a response here and there, but the urge to admit what was in his heart had overtaken his thoughts.

And as The Boy stared at her warm smile and heard her rolling laugh, something in him told him to get it out. Get it out now.

Now! Before he exploded!

“Enid.”

“Hm?” She slowed to a stop and turned to him with a warm smile. She briefly read the expression on his face: hesitant and sweet and full of something…odd. He flashed her a weak smile back. Something sparkled behind his mossy green eyes, like the sun had finally broken through the clouds and shone at him from her direction.

But it wasn’t sunlight. It was something else entirely.

And like she could sense it coming from a mile away, her smile suddenly dropped.

She shook her head furiously and started walking. “Teddy, no.”

“Enid,” he stumbled a little as he walked after her, desperate to catch up. “Enid I can’t help it.”

“No!”

“I can’t help it, Enid! I really like you,” He reached out for her arm and gently tugged her back to a stop. “I do… You’re brilliant and funny and—”

She continued to shake her head, wincing at his words as they continued to pour out. Continued to try and jeopardize everything. “ _Teddy—_ ”

“— and you see me for me,” he continued. His eyes fell to his grip on her arm and he quickly let go. He took a deep, shaking breath and made eye contact again. “I-I’ve never met anyone like you, Enid. And … and lately, you’ve been on my mind and it’s amazing and terrifying and...”

He trailed off to a stop as soon as he saw Enid’s face. She looked at him as though he said something awful. It made his insides twist, but not in the way he liked. This was a horrible way, an awful, uncomfortable feeling. He couldn’t understand it. Why would she look at him like that?

She gave him an insistent shake of her head, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Teddy I really can’t.”

His brain was buzzing at her words, and in his confusion, he shook his head and frowned. “Why?”

“Because it wouldn’t work.”

He shook his head firmly. “I don’t care if you live in London—"

“No! Teddy,” she interrupted, “Because … Because I don’t like you in that way. I-I mean I love you, truly I do, but not in … _that_ way.”

Silence swelled between them for some time as he reeled over her words. They played over and over in his head, making brain spin faster and his heart pump harder from the rush of adrenaline. 

“… Oh.”

She ran her hands through her blonde locks and looked up, trying to keep her breathing level and the need to tear up at bay. She hated they were having this conversation and it showed.

“… Is it because I’m peculiar?”

Her eyes immediately fell to his, and her face hardened at his words. “Of course not.”

“Because of what my smile does?”

“ _No,_ you dunce, I…” She put her hands in her hair and visibly winced, screwing her eyes shut. She took a few shaking breaths and let them out slowly. “I… don’t like … _men_ , in that way. Romantically, or … ”

She slowly opened her eyes again and made eye contact once more. For a split-second she saw his face twist like she had jabbed him in the gut, before turning soft and solemn like it was when she had first met him. All he could do was smile rather pathetically and try and chuckle it off even more so.

“Teddy.”

He tried swallowing the painful lump growing his throat and spoke up. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Teddy, it’s—"

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything!” He spoke over her, shaking his head repeatedly. “I should have just kept my mouth shut—”

“No no no, it’s fine! Honest!” She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a tight hug. The Boy buried his face into her shirt, admiring the scent of her shampoo mixed in with her chamomile perfume. Instead of it making his heart race and flutter, it only made his insides ache and his eyes sting and his chest hurt.

“’M sorry for ruining things,” he mumbled into her shoulder. The girl huffed and slightly shook her head, running her fingers through his cedar-colored curls.

“You didn’t ruin shit, don’t be stupid,” she insisted.

He let out a broken chuckle and hugged her tight. “Promise?”

She gave a nod and squeezed him back just as tight, kissing the side of his head firmly. “Promise.”

He nodded into her shoulder, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill onto her shirt. “Can we still be mates?”

“Best mates,” she corrected. She took a slight step back to look at him and ruffled his wavy hair, earning a soft chuckle from her best friend in return. “Gilligan and Skipper.”


End file.
